i'd rather be the devil than to be that woman' man
by sheriff stilinski
Summary: "Come on, lover boy," Mac says, walking out of the store. "I got a brand new pair of handcuffs to try out." MacDick


Title: i'd rather be the devil than to be that woman' man

Summary: "Come on, lover boy," Mac says, walking out of the store. "I got a brand new pair of handcuffs to try out." MacDick

Author's Note: This story came out of me like magic. Just a little fun, a little weirdness, who knows. Title comes from "Devil Got My Woman" by Skip James (which was featured in Ghost World!).

Also, the ending sucks but I really couldn't leave it sad like that because :( :( too much sadness in the lives of Mac and Dick :( :( !

/

One day, Dick wakes up with a killer hangover to find Mac picking up the tequila bottles and pizza boxes in his living room. She has a trash bag in her hand. It's black like her hair, save for the red streaks. After she throws a beer bottle in the bag, she puts her spare hand on her hip.

"Just so you know," she says, "You've officially won the award for the most disgusting person I've met. Congrats."

He holds his head with one hand and nods. She continues to clean, muttering under her breath about filth. He falls asleep to her whispers.

What feels like seconds later, but ends up being hours later, she pokes him with a single finger.

"Ow," he responds.

"A word! Wow! I didn't think you'd be coherent after all of this alcohol in your blood stream."

She throws him a clean-ish shirt. He looks at her like she's grown two heads.

"Come on," she says. "I might as well feed you something that won't clog your arteries."

She pulls him out of the house, and when he finally opens his eyes again, she pushes him into a booth at a diner. He doesn't recognize it, so he assumes it's out of town. She must've realized that no one wants to see the brother of Neptune's most recent killer.

"What do you want?" she says, combing over the menu. "Obviously, we're getting you coffee, but what about a salad? Something not covered in cheese?"

"What," he says, before grasping at his head again, "do you think you're doing?"

"Feeding you," she responds, not meeting his eyes. "Thought I caught you up on that already, but I must've underrated the hangover."

He stares at the top of her head,"Why?"

She sighs, putting down the menu, and finally looking him in the eye, "Because my parents think I should go to a shrink and instead of talking to a stranger about Cassidy, I thought I might as well go to someone who gave a damn about him."

He winces, "Does that mean we're going to talk about Beav — Cassidy? Because, honestly, right now, I'm going to need something stronger in that coffee to do that."

She smiles, but he notices her mouth isn't tugging the right way and it's kind of killing him, just a little bit, and puts her hands upwards to the ceiling.

"No," she says. "I would need something stronger in my cup too."

He sighs in relief, "Cool." After thought, he adds, "I could do with a grilled cheese."

She rolls her eyes, "Since I've received countless insults from you, I know you're very capable of talking. You can order for yourself."

But when the waitress comes, and bats her eyelashes at Dick, Mac orders for him anyway. After he eats his sandwich and steals half of her weird vegan dish, she pays for the meal and drags him toward her car again.

"Now that you've fed me, I guess you can drop me off," he shrugs.

She throws him a skeptical look over her shoulder as she turns the car on, "You'll get there when I finish everything I have to do."

He moans and puts his head against the window. She rolls down the window just to spite him. He puts his feet on the dashboard and she hits the brakes so he jerks forward.

"Jesus," he says, rubbing at his neck, "Did you kidnap me just to ruin my life?"

She laughs, "Yeah, you got me. My whole mission in life is to ruin yours."

"I wouldn't be surprised," he mutters, folding his arms over his chest.

They end up at a CVS after he complains about every single CD in her glove compartment and she trashes every song he loves.

"You can wait in the car if you want," she says, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I'll probably be a minute."

He sighs as he unbuckles his seatbelt too, "Whatever, I'm not listening to one more second of this guy pretend he can get a date."

Her eyes narrow, "Okay, _don't_ insult Death Cab or I'll leave you here to fend for yourself."

She pulls him by his hand and leads them to the hair dye section like a woman with a mission.

"Trying a new Crayola color?"

"Bite me."

She spends not one minute like she promised, but ten, pouring over the different options. Dick inspects a box that promises blonder hair and a new self in only five minutes before tossing it in her basket.

She picks up the box and inspects it herself, raising her eyebrow, "Are you trying to be a 'blonder you?'"

He shrugs, "Seeing as I hardly leave my own house, why not?"

She laughs and throws another one in the basket for good measure and abandons the array of colorful dye. After a moment of thought, she grabs a box of brown dye too.

"No color for you?" Dick inquires.

She shrugs, bites her lip, "Cassidy used to choose the newest color."

"Oh," Dick says.

Mac puts out her hand at the checkout counter and Dick hands her money like he's been trained. The cashier's eyebrow raises.

"She's got me whipped," Dick says, throwing his arm around Mac. He leans in closer to the cashier and whispers loud enough for Mac to hear, "Like actual whips."

Mac smacks his chest and hides her smile under her hair. She lets him keep his arm around her shoulder until the cashier hands her the change.

"He loves it when I lend him my dresses," she says in a monotone. Dick retracts his arm from her shoulder and she finally barks out a laugh. "Come on, lover boy," Mac says, walking out of the store. "I got a brand new pair of handcuffs to try out."

"Thanks for convincing the rest of the world I'm crazy," Dick says, pulling the car door sharply behind him.

"You're not crazy, but you might lose an arm if you hurt my baby like that again."

He rolls his eyes, "Where next?"

"Home," she responds. "Yours, I mean."

Dick wonders if, once, she briefly considered it her home too. He waves it off as a pesky thought. He's never really had much use for those.

"Why don't you want to go to a shrink?" he asks.

Her knuckles turn white from her tight clutch on the steering wheel, "Who said I wasn't?"

"You're going to a shrink?"

She exhales loudly, "Eventually, I guess. I'm just procrastinating a little."

He nods, "That's good, I guess?"

She smiles bitterly, "Yeah, I guess."

They stay silent on their way back and when she pulls into the driveway, he opens the car door and leans in.

"Thanks for that, I guess," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

After a moment of staring at her hands, her mouth gets tight.

"Could I dye my hair here?"

He thinks about it, "Only if you dye mine."

She smiles, despite herself, "Deal."

The dye is, in fact, bonafide bleach and when their hair dries, they compare the final results.

"My hair is orange," she moans, tugging at the strands. "Orange!"

"I kinda like mine," he says, combing his fingers through. "I feel like I've really become a blonder me."

Mac covers her face with her hands, "Why did I think this would even look semi-respectable?"

He smiles and pulls at her hands with his own, "It's not that bad. Actually, it's kinda cool."

She gives him a look and he starts to laugh, "Okay, okay, so blonde isn't you… You did get the other dye."

She sighs, picks up the other carton, and walks back in the bathroom. She leaves the door a crack open as she reapplies the new dye and he leans against the wall across, watching her through it for a few minutes before leaving to put the trash bags at the curb. When he comes back, she's blowing her hair dry.

He should think there's something plain about the new shade, but part of him can't help but like it. It's the same part that wants to reach out and run his fingers through it and feel if it's soft. He mentally punches that part to unconsciousness.

"Not as Ghostworld-y," he says.

She quickly glances in the mirror and he just notices that she winces after seeing her reflection, like she can't look at herself, and sighs, "It'll do."

She tosses everything in the garbage and packs up her remaining things.

"I guess that's all I had planned," she says. "I should probably go home now."

That pesky part of him is pleading for him to tell her to stay, to offer her a place on his couch and offer her her own controller. But again, he doesn't follow through.

"Yeah," he says. "Thanks for the food and everything."

She smiles faintly and reaches out to brush his blonder hair, "No problem."

When she pulls out of his driveway, he gets one of Big Dick's expensive bottles of wine and drinks it without a glass.

Over the course of that summer, she comes every couple of days to clean up after him, but they don't spend the day together like the first time. She goes to therapy, he drinks alone. She goes to a stranger to talk about Cassidy and the liquid courage he would need to talk is wasted on the empty house he once considered home.

/

Years later, at their high school reunion, he finally has the real, unliquified courage to listen closer to that part of him. By this time, she has blond hair.

He saddles up to her at the bar, "So, would you ever consider kidnapping me again sometime?"

She rolls her eyes before she grins, "Only if I get to finally use those handcuffs."

He tentatively tucks her short hair behind her ear and leans into her ear, "I've been waiting on that for a while now."


End file.
